Verses and Poems
by poetrygirl22
Summary: A few verses about The Musketeers. Varying lengths. Please give it a go.
1. There Once was Four Musketeers

I** don't own any Musketeers.**

**I've been writing poems for a while so I thought I could publish a few.**

**Please review, it makes my day.**

* * *

There once was four Musketeers,

Who train all day and hid their fears.

They get any job done,

They toil all day under the sun.

They smile in the face of death,

And live to take another breath.

There once was a man who could shoot,

And never take the easy route.

He would die to save his brothers,

He had many adoring lovers.

But what set him apart,

Each of them took a piece of his heart.

There once was a once-noble man,

Who went through more pain than any man can.

He lived by the drink,

Standing on the final brink.

His sword could move with a mind of it's own,

He was the bravest man I have ever known.

There once was a man who fought like a bear,

And despite what they said he was always fair.

He came from pain and hunger,

Because of his skin colour long did he suffer.

He laughed and smiled and laughed again,

All the while hiding his pain.

There once was a man, barely more than a lad,

He was grateful for all that he had.

He fell in love with a married lady,

Who almost died at the hands of Milady.

When he smiles, it shines with a gleam,

But he'll never forget, his beautiful dream.


	2. Walk by

The only thing I own Musketeer related is the box set.

* * *

They sneer and they laugh and he tries to walk by,

They call out insults,

His throat goes dry.

The red sashes speak of trouble,

They speak of cells and bruises and whips,

So Aramis tries to walk on by.

Porthos is immune to the cruel words, flowing between their lips,

Aramis tries to block it all out,

But his mind doesn't work that way.

Aramis tries, he really does,

But they refuse to go away.

And tries to stop his fist,

And it flies round,

Meeting the other man's nose.

Then he is off, a coil unwound,

Fists flying everywhere.

And Porthos is roaring,

Coming to his aid.

And for just that one moment, Aramis is soaring.

And arms come out of their sockets,

And bones are broken with a snap,

And legs twist beneath them as they fall.

And then it's the end of the street scrap,

And they're sitting in a cell,

And guilt weighs on his heart,

When he sees Porthos,

It hits him like a poisoned dart,

The bruises and the scars.

They sneer and they laugh and he tries to walk by,

They call out insults,

His throat goes dry.

The red sashes speak of trouble,

They speak of cells and bruises and whips,

So Aramis tries to walk on by.


	3. Bruised Jaw

**My third poem.**

**I don't own the Musketeers.**

**I love all the reviews, please keep them coming.**

**Bruised Jaw**

* * *

Athos cradles a broken jaw,

As Aramis hides his laughter.

Porthos lies on the dirty straw,

Looking so dam innocent.

Athos knew it was cruelest truth,

When Treville delivered the news.

He was to lead the most uncouth,

Musketeers around.

Porthos and Aramis,

The mischief makers.

They had fought well and saved his life,

Barely accepting thanks.

Then they had ridden back,

Until Porthos had collapsed.

He had tumbled right of his horse,

Face as pale as a sheet.

They had carried him into a bar,

Laying him on the straw.

Medically Aramis was a star,

His fingers moving quick.

Porthos had ridden back, with a dislocated arm,

Fifteen miles not saying a word,

About the pain traveling through his forearm,

the stupidly, brave man.

Porthos had groaned,

Murmured a 'sorry',

Then Aramis nodded his head, and Porthos moaned.

Aramis leapt forward, taking the arm,

And snapped it back with an audible crack.

And Porthos had shouted, his hand had lashed out,

And Athos's vision went black.


	4. Walked Away

**I don't own any Musketeers.**

**Walked Away**

* * *

Flea stands there,

Her eyes transfixed,

Watching the loving pair.

She had herself convinced,

That they could never,

Love like they did.

It would never be forever,

Who was she trying to kid?

She loved him, she loved him,

She loved him, she did.

Without him her whole world went dim,

And dim her world was, and God forbid,

She wished at that moment,

Standing right there,

Not noticed.

That she had gone where,

He tried to take her.

She had left her home,

Let her old life become a blur,

Drag through her hair a comb,

Wear a fancy dress,

And a ring on her finger.

Yet she would never dress to impress,

Never care about her figure.

She was a woman of power,

Of influence and strength.

She wasn't a delicate flower,

Her power ran through her with every breath.

So as she stood,

Watching the lovers,

She still understood,

Why she chose her friends and her brothers.

For her heart bled as she watched him kiss her,

Alice the Candlemaker's widow.

She turned her back on the lovers,

And walked away.


	5. Don't forget me

Marsac to Aramis,

* * *

Don't forget me when you're fighting,

Don't forget me when you're alone,

Don't forget me when you're drinking,

Or when you're on your own.

Don't forget me when you're hurting,

Don't forget me when you're afraid,

Don't forget me when you're bleeding,

Or when you're pressed against a blade.

Don't forget me when you're crying,

Don't forget me when you're not,

Don't forget me when you're injured,

Or when you've been shot.

Don't forget me,

Don't forget me.

Don't forget me,

For we were brothers once.


	6. In a Line

I was writing a normal poem and it turned like an evil chant but oh well.

* * *

One two three, seven eight nine,

Porthos fell and broke his spine,

Aramis wept, Aramis cried,

No saving him although he tried.

Two three four, five six seven,

Porthos traveled up to Heaven.

Alice and Flea stood side by side,

A little part of them died.

One two three, three two one,

Now his journey is done.

From the gutter did he climb,

Freed himself of it's grime.

Eight seven six five four,

Athos drinks more and more.

D'Artagnan couldn't deal with the grief,

He has lost all belief.

One two three four five,

Without him they don't feel alive.

For them four he was the soul,

Without him they aren't whole.

One two three, seven eight nine,

Porthos fell and broke his spine.

He fell for his dear brother,

And Aramis, he did suffer.

Four five six seven eight nine,

They're all buried in a line.


	7. That night

That night he and Porthos smile,

Downing the last drink.

Till they decide to set off home,

On drunkedness's brink.

They set off down the dirty street,

Until their way is stopped,

And ten great brutes forced them to retreat.

They ask his name and that is it, all politeness dropped.

What follows is a blur of sound,

And flashing swords and flying blows,

Until unconscious men are lying on the ground.

From the mess Porthos arose,

His face pale as a starched sheet,

And hands trembling,

He gets to his tired feet,

And starts his troubled journey home.

He does not look at his brother,

Merely walks in front.

Not even looking at the other,

As he walks back home.

He does his best to hide his pain,

Till they get to the Garrison.

His shoulder covered in a deep red stain,

A slice right across.

As Aramis sews him up again,

They don't exchange a word.

They both go straight to bed, one to hide from the other men,

And one to figure things out.

They both lie awake,

With tears in their eyes,

And through their heart a stake.

Aramis could have so easily died,

If Porthos hadn't been around,

He would have as well.

A few days pass and all is fine,

Now to face Treville.

* * *

Treville sighs and leans his head in his hands,

Footsteps, coming up to the door,

He sighs again and stands.

The same story, yet this time much more,

Aramis steps in, lowering his face,

His body's slumped forward,

Left has it's usual grace,

Porthos followes, shuffling onward.

Treville raises his head, something is wrong.

Then he notices the cloth.

The sling on Porthos's arm, white and long,

Wrapping round his chest, right across.

They're here all the time,

From one fight or another,

Covered in grime,

For defending their brother.

He would berate them, give them extra work,

Then forget all about it,

Pretend he didn't see their mischievous smirk,

And their refusal to admit.

But this time it was different,

Their guilty smiles were gone,

Each movement steady and deliberate.

As Porthos stifled a tired yawn,

His eyes were red from lack of sleep,

His limbs slow and heavy,

His thoughts slow and deep.

Treville heard the ugly tale,

And anger painted his features.

Stupid Aramis, stupid Porthos,

Stupid stupid stupid.


End file.
